The Last Flight Out

Chapter 1: Dreamy flight

I met my ex-wife because a hurricane was coming and an airline website refused to work properly.

That sounds like the beginning of a joke, especially when I say it now. But at the time, there was nothing funny about it.

The storm filled almost the entire television screen—a huge spiral of white clouds turning slowly over the ocean. Every few hours, the projected path shifted. First it seemed likely to miss us. Then the line moved closer. By the following morning, officials were advising people to leave.

The roads filled almost immediately.

Gas stations ran out of fuel. Grocery shelves emptied. People loaded cars with suitcases, bottled water, pets, and whatever else they believed they could not live without. I had waited too long to make a decision, partly because I thought the forecast might change again and partly because I had never been good at accepting that plans could collapse without warning.

By the time I searched for a flight, almost everything was sold out.

Then I saw it: one Southwest flight leaving on the final night before the projected landfall.

There was no time to compare prices or complain about the departure hour. I entered my information and clicked the button.

An error message appeared.

I tried again.